Equilibrium (Was: We All Wear Masks)
by MickeyMonroe
Summary: When a mechanical malfunction leaves Khan conscious once more, Wendi Jackson, former Special Ops agent and engineer extraordinaire, is launched head-first into the voyage meant for the Augments' relocation. Logically, the trip should go down without a hitch. But darkness never really cared how things should go.
1. 1 Blur

_ The air was cold, and wet; the kind that clung to the skin and never really left the lungs. Driving across the barren ice cap was boring and long, the only source of entertainment being Ruska Benophile's horrible steering that often nearly threw the hover jeep and it's passengers out into the snow._

_ Wendi ducked her nose into the collar of her body suit, hoping to warm the tip on the heating device embedded in the material. Although the form fitting suit kept her toasty, the constant cold throwing itself over her skin as they traveled farther and farther north began to linger._

_ "Head up, Jackson!" Marjorie Manson called over the roar of thrusters. "We need your eyes!"_

_ She tugged her attention back to the endless expanse of white, and didn't make any remarks about the 3 pairs of orbs flicking every which way on Morjorie's lavender toned face._

_ They were only on a scouting mission. Some patrol had gotten lost one their way back to headquarters and had stumbled across an odd looking signal broadcasting from a location 50 miles or so outside of their radius._

_ Wendi suspected a crashed satellite from the early 21__st__ century. It wasn't the first time it had happened; the North Pole seemed to be a magnet for space junk these days._

_ A black shape appeared on the horizon and she squinted at it._

_ "What do you think?" she called to the man sitting next to her._

_ His shoulders rose and fell but he showed no other sign of acknowledgment. This was fine enough to Wendi; Zayne Price had been transferred several weeks earlier and she _still _hadn't heard him say a word. Like anyone else, she was curious, but the Special Ops was no place to ask questions._

_ As they neared the object it became apparent that it definitely was not a satellite. It was _huge, _and so was the crater it nested in._

_ "Look at _that_." Manson exclaimed as the engine was cut, jumping heavily out onto the thick ice and striding purposefully toward the enormous hunk of twisted rock and metal._

_ Wendi, Zayne, and Ruska fell into step behind her._

_ "What could have been sending that signal?" Ruska wondered aloud, his deep voice and thick Russian accent cutting through the silence._

_ "Dunno. Ruska, you're with me. Jackson, Price, take the right. Look for an entrance and shout if you find anything. Move out."_

_ Manson marched stiffly in the other direction, Ruska thudding over the frozen ground behind her while Wendi gave a sarcastic salute to their retreating forms with a small pink tongue jutting defiantly from her lips. She shot a sideways glance at Price to catch him rolling his eyes; the most expressive she'd ever seen him. Her small victory was quickly squashed by the realization that he was probably wondering why he'd gotten stuck with the reject._

_ They made their way into the crater toward the huge craft, and while Price paused to fiddle with his PADD in order to run a scan, Wendi went on ahead. Something had caught her eye along the side of the folded metal._

_ They were letters; or at least they used to be before the collision with earth's crust had mutated them into chicken scratch._

_ "Hey, Price," she called, backing up in order to get a better view. "Come take a look at this."_

_Only a few of the markings were distinguishable, but even so, her guesses didn't make much sense. "Cod Static 13?"_

_ "Cold." _

_ The voice surprised her and she whipped her head to the side. Price was looking innocently down at his PADD. "That's an L. Cold Station 12."_

_ "What's Cold Station 12?" she asked quickly in an attempt to disguise her shock at the smooth tones coming from his usually silent mouth._

_ He shrugged and she looked back at the fallen ship in disappointment. "We'd better radio Manson."_

_ Suddenly a small pinch at her neck had her smacking at the soft skin, her clumsy fingers finding purchase on a tiny dart. Her hands grew heavy as she stared at it, panic flooding her senses as Price suddenly dropped to the ground beside her. She stumbled forward, legs like lead as they shuffled across the ice, the world tilting dangerously on its axis. Where she was trying to go, she had no idea, but every instinct was telling her to run._

_ Drugged. She'd been drugged. Her immediate thoughts sprang to Manson and the obvious dislike that the purple Indican displayed for her, but that was silly. This was beyond a petty grudge._

_ She vaguely recalled falling, but she was definitely conscious of her skull snapping to the solid layer of frozen water so hard, she thought she'd crack the ice caps._

_ And then a voice cut into her splitting headache and a kaleidoscope face swam into her vision. A face she couldn't place._

_ "There's some crazy stuff out here." It said from miles away. "Things that you weren't supposed to see. But you'll forget all of that soon enough, Wendi Jackson. Don't you worry."_

_ When the darkness came, she welcomed it._

* * *

**3 Years Later**

The café wasn't as busy this time of morning, then again, most people probably wouldn't find it appealing to rise with the sun on a Saturday. That was fine. The steaming mug of frothy liquid on the table before her would make fine company.

She flicked idly through the news on her PADD. The Kelvin Memorial Archive had recently been rebuilt, minus the secret operations base beneath the concrete (never mind that Section 31 had merely been relocated instead of abolished). Starfleet headquarters were repaired, its transgressors fired and punished. Veteran's services had been being held galaxy wide, broadcasted to every planet with satellite who had lost family and friend alike in the attack not a year ago. They were shaken, but getting back on their feet as steadily and as surely as the sunrise currently burning through the clouds. Looking at it from the insider's perspective, though, Wendi knew that it was probably due to the secrecy currently sugarcoating the entire event as thickly as was humanely possible.

The Augments and their history were kept hidden from the public, kept safely in some file in a cabinet beneath 3 feet of concrete and safety precautions. Newspaper headlines reported a disillusioned Marcus as the actual villain, and while that _was _partially true, the story was that he had hired then brainwashed an otherwise innocent John Harrison into doing his dirty work. Harrison was dead; gone down with the USS Vengeance after realizing Marcus' treachery and disposing of the man himself. The silver lining of the allotted mushroom cloud.

The public believed it. And they all lived happily ever after.

"Long night?" a warm voice cut into her reverie and she looked up. Brown hair swept cleanly off to the side of a kind face, crow's feet in the corners of eyes the color of dark chocolate, a steady hand gesturing to the spiral of whipped cream atop her drink.

"You have no idea," she replied, nodding to the bench across from her in a subtle invitation for him to join her.

He sat, shoulders steady, and clasped his hands beneath his chin.

"Credit chip for your thoughts?"

She set her PADD down on the table and cradled her mug with both hands.

"I think I'm going to apply for the Enterprise."

He grinned at her softly and nodded his approval.

Ever since the terrorism incident from almost 12 months ago, Starfleet had been scrambling to fill positions. The Federation had lost a good number of employees who abandoned their careers in shock and shame, both embarrassed and horrified at working in a deceitful and untrustworthy environment in the service of liars and killers. The Academy had lost its fair share, as well; the level of distrust for the Federation reaching its peak when headlines had merely been publishing hyperbolic assumptions gleaned from the wreckage of a spaceship no one had seen before. As meticulously controlled bits of information were leaked, however, and a story sufficient enough to calm the angry mobs had spread over the constellations, respect sluggishly began to trickle back into its original locations, though not without repercussions.

The voyage of the Enterprise, secretly relocating 73 popsicle people to an uninhabited planet off the Asteroid Belt of Nivene, had originally been due to cast off several months ago. However, a shortage in staff had put the mission on a tense hiatus.

While the Academy _was _slowly refilling with bright young minds to be molded, they simply couldn't spit out Cadets fast enough without risking unprofessionalism.

"That's great, Wendi." He told her. "God knows how much I'd love an assistant."

"Has your Captain been reckless?"

She smirked as he rolled his eyes. "I was thinking of applying as an engineer. I guess with all the empty spaces I could double up, though."

His shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug while she sipped at her coffee, licking at the whipped cream mustache it left above her lip.

"No more top secret missions?" he asked, a tone of theatrical disappointment latching onto his words.

She shook her head.

"I spent way too long trying to get out of there. I don't even think I did; not completely anyways. I swear there are mini cameras in my flat. Every time this stupid thing goes off, I think it will be a Blocked Number and I'll be called out again, no questions asked." She smacked the small PADD lightly as the man across from her leaned forward intensely.

"Is that Paranoia or PTSD? I can prescribe meds for both."

Wendi snorted and scowled at him.

"You tell me, doc."

He chuckled a few times, leaning back into the leather chair, pacified, and they lapsed into a companionable silence.

As if on cue, the small oval machine on the polished marble before her beeped ominously, signaling a message.

**Number Withheld**_. _

"Shit." She whispered, eyes widening in their sockets.

"What?" he asked warily, flying forward once again with concern in his dark eyes.

"Two years." She muttered darkly to herself. "Almost two whole _years _without a single _word_. Now _this_?"

Wendi pressed a digit to the screen until it recognized her fingerprint, a security implement given to all Starfleet personal with her level of clearance, and scanned the content quickly.

"Wendi, what? Who is it?"

"I don't know, hold on!" she replied tersely, dragging her eyes over the encrypted text. It was merely a series of numbers, but ones that she recognized as coding for a time and location. This type of cipher was only used for top priority. Her heart sank. "Damn. I never should have believed them when they said I was out for good."

A warm hand touched her shoulder and she looked up into the warm expression of her friend, feeling the dread lighten microscopically at his concern.

"You'll be fine," he told her. "Probably just a confirmation meeting or something. If you can squirm out of this one, I'll make sure you get a spot on the Enterprise, alright? It's the least I can do."

She set her mouth into a grim curve and turned to leave, pulling on the brown leather jacket that had been dangling off the corner of her seat and scooping her PADD off the table. "I'm finishing your coffee!" the same voice called to her as she reached the door.

A tiny smile penetrated her stony expression as she craned her head over a shoulder.

"Good to see you, Bones."

* * *

_**1500.37.78333.122.4167**_

Coordinates she knew well enough not to have to keep the message after it had been sent.

The shuttle from New Seattle to San Francisco was a short one; nowhere near long enough to get her bearings, but she supposed that she didn't have many "bearings" left to collect. Even after her 2 ½ year absence from anything Federation-related, Wendi still remained as tightly strung as ever; constantly on guard even in the most mundane situations and waking herself unintentionally at early hours to maintain her military fitness for lack of anything better to do with her sleepless self.

Her flat remained Spartan; containing only the necessities of a soldier trained to live without just in case it was needful for her to relocate.

Only recently had she begun to sleep full nights again. Only last month was her first _real_ date that hadn't ended in an awkward goodnight and deleted contact. Only last week had she leaned over her balcony with a flute of champagne, celebrating the New Year by watching an atmospheric firework show that lasted hours just because she could.

A soft sigh that turned out to be hers fogged the window glass and she returned her face forwards.

Since her resignation, she hadn't seen anyone from the old days. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Bones, she had met in intensive training at an outpost in the floating province of Barcelona before she had officially joined the ranks. She'd stumbled into his medical pod by accident, bruised, bleeding, and bone weary after a brutal boot camp session, nursing a broken wrist, regrets about her military decision, and a personal vendetta against Sergeant Bruce "Cut-throat" Sinclair.

Leonard McCoy had been a balm to her wounds, emotional and physical, sending her back to the barracks with her hard heart full of kind words and her bloodstream full of numbing, soothing chemicals.

She had kept in contact ever since.

Truth be told, her agent life was a blur of shallow relationships and stress, so the lack of phone calls didn't really surprise her, but still. Come to think of it, that life was mostly just a downright blur; as if someone had stuck that part of her memory into a blender. She wondered at it, trying to pull individual missions from her head. The first year or two, it was easy, but as the jobs grew higher and higher in risk, things began to flicker- especially around her final few months.

A headache flared in her temple from the strain and she halted the train of thought with pressure on the side of her skull, considering instead to ask Bones what he knew about PTSD and stress-related amnesia. He'd have a field day.

The shuttle came to a stop with a soft moan and a toneless voice came over the intercom system to state their location.

_"Welcome to San Francisco. Please collect your personal items and exit to your right."_

Wendi stood, PADD clutched firmly in her fingers as she maneuvered through the other riders out onto the busy platform. Her feet knew where to go and she followed them, the building marked Starfleet Headquarters looming tall and gray before her as both real and metaphorical storm clouds gathered over her head.


	2. 2 Shadow

As soon as her brown combat boot had touched the floor of Headquarters, her PADD had blipped with another message from the same unidentified source, leading her up to the third floor and into an empty conference room. She recognized it as the briefing office that had been destroyed in Khan's rampage, and tread gingerly away from the location she knew had been Commander Pike's last resting place. Even though the floors had been redone, she couldn't help but keep a respectful distance for a fallen soldier.

Before she'd had time to begin to worry, the doors behind her slid open and a broad shouldered man strode through, authority leaking from his every pore.

He possessed a tanned, weather beaten face with two whiskey-colored eyes peering through creased lids. Thick, salt and pepper flecked hair covered the whole of his head, aging him a bit more than necessary at his age of barely 50. His lips were pressed in a tight smile, and he'd nodded to her curtly, looking every bit as polished and official as the Starfleet insignia pinned to his chest.

"Good morning, Miss Jackson."

Martin Hendrix.

After the previous Admiral's treachery and death had been discovered, Hendrix had been the first to act; taking full responsibility of reconverting havoc into order. A high ranking officer in his prime, he possessed a clear head and a quiet bravery that kept all personnel beneath him at his beck and call; and this man wasn't even the Vice Admiral. Hendrix was kind and intelligent, excellent at managing large projects, and when the push came to shove, cleaning up after Marcus was just another. Under his leadership and guidance, Starfleet was reformed. Due to his mercy (and a few choice words from Captain Kirk), the Augments of Marcus's terrorism were allowed to live.

And now he was standing before her with his shoulders stiff but sagging, like a broken Atlas with world on his back.

"Admiral," she replied, straightening her spine automatically and trying desperately to hide the shock threatening to widen her eyes and unhinge her jaw.

He waved a hand toward her and turned away.

She followed.

As they wound their way through the main building, Wendi trailing after him trying very much not to look like the lost puppy she knew she appeared to be, and Hendrix nodding at every cadet or lieutenant to pass him by, she couldn't help but ask the questions burning her mouth from the inside. Although it was against her nature to inquire such fragile matters, this was borderline freaky, and she was supposed to be retired.

"Sir, would you mind telling me what's going on?"

She struggled to match his pace. He didn't even shoot her a glance.

"All in good time, Jackson." He told her firmly.

Their trek led them into an elevator and she stepped inside, taking one last glance at the outside world as nervousness churned in her intestines.

"Admiral Silas Quinn Hendrix," he said suddenly, almost making her jump.

Before she could ask after the strange declaration that didn't appear to be for her, a soft, robotic voice cooed lightly through a speaker hidden somewhere in the elevator and she craned her neck around.

"_Acknowledged."_

The lift hummed to life, sinking deeper and deeper beneath the levels of the building until the floor numbers stopped changing, the button marked L1 glowing permanently throughout the rest of the journey. Wendi remained quiet.

They were far beneath Headquarters when the lift finally stopped, opening into a vast warehouse of bustling scientists; telltale by the lab coats and absolutely bizarre looking tools clutched in nimble fingers and pockets.

Hendrix weaved through them effortlessly; the crowd seeming to part like a Red Sea as he passed without reacting to his arrival. Wendi was jostled by a large man with a steel tray who glared at her moodily when she fell too far out of the Admiral's wake. She sped up.

"What do you know about the Augments?" he shot over his shoulder.

She hurried to the space directly behind his right.

"Everything sir. I studied the Eugenics Wars in the Academy, and I was on the team investigating Marcus before Khan's terrorism. We bugged the Enterprise for clues, so I heard the whole story."

He veered around a tight corner and she jerked her body to follow him, nearly crashing into a woman pushing a cart of trembling Tribbles.

"Good. Then you know that Khan was placed back into cryo for transport."

Was he testing her? Of course she knew this. All of it.

"Yes, sir."

They reached a locked door at the end of a smaller hallway and he paused to scan his fingerprint. The sound of several iron bolts sliding out of position met her ears and she gulped.

"You're in the Special Ops," he began, one hand on the door latch as he finally turned to address her directly.

"Was," she interjected, but he bowled over her statement without seeming to hear it.

"You're trained to act quickly and effectively when a situation changes for the worst."

"Technically, but-"

"How fast can you solve this?"

Without waiting for her reply, he tugged the solid door open and barged inside, dragging a floundering Wendi with him.

This room wasn't like the sharp white of the previous halls. It was cold and gray and devoid of any life besides a wiry bunch of cadets who looked half-starved and sleep deprived, all hovering over some monitors scattered about the room.

Hendrix moved right on past them and they didn't change position.

A panel of what Wendi guessed was one sided glass allowed vision into a tiny room filled with more machines and wires and hanging, harsh light bulbs. Judging by the gurney in the center, it was a makeshift hospital.

As she neared, the man atop the hovering platform came clearer into focus. He was tall and muscular with jet black hair and ivory skin. His sleep stiffened limbs were clad in a basic, gray Starfleet uniform. The very same garb he'd been frozen in.

"Is that-"

"Khan Noonien Singh." Hendrix folded his hands firmly behind his back. "This morning at about 0100 hours the cryotube containing him malfunctioned, resulting in his near death and a small heart attack for a few of my cadets." None of the techies looked up, but Wendi noticed one flinch and shrug into himself a bit more than was necessary for taking readings on a tiny screen. "Currently, he's under heavy sedation, but his freezer is another problem. The thing is broken; under some sort of lockdown that we can't override, and to pull it apart would likely damage it further."

Wendi listened to the information carefully, relying on her military shock absorbers to keep her mind clear as she worked through the details.

"Where do I come in, sir?"

"Now that Khan has awoken, the voyage to his new home base will be even more dangerous than we originally anticipated."

"You're not going to cancel the mission?" she replied quickly. "With all do respect, sir, the last time Khan was aboard the Enterprise he nearly destroyed it single handedly, removing half of Kirk's crew on the side."

He gestured to the medicated Augment.

"What else can I do? Khan and his crew were-are from a time where tyrants needed to be invincible. Times have changed. We can't have 73 power-crazed superheros roaming the streets, it would cause pandemonium. We can't blend them into society either. They're too different."

"Khan passed as your average agent up until he went berserk." She countered, but Hendrix shook his head.

"Khan is a special case." He moved to a row of filing cabinets and withdrew a manila folder from one of the drawers, flipping it open and showing it to her. Inside was a color representation of a brain, activity levels highlighted in red. "Now, as you can see, an Augment uses up to 30% of their brain capacity while a human uses only about 10%. This is Khan." He tapped the page with a large finger. "This area here is the pre-frontal cortex; where violence and unpredictability occur. Khan's is, of course, more active than a normal human's, but this is one of the others." He flipped to the next picture and Wendi let out a low whistle. The area where Hendrix had gestured to was nearly completely red. "It's a mutation. Khan had the luck of two recessive genes pairing up."

"So they're even crazier than he is." She mused. "What's the plan?"

"The plan, is to go on as planned," he replied, tucking the folder away as he spoke. "The trip should take place within the week."

Wendi looked at him warily.

"And how do you plan on keeping Khan from crushing our skulls with his bare hands?"

He almost chuckled, reaching out and clapping a meaty paw on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about that, Jackson. All I need you to do is shadow him."

_Shadow. Shadow Khan. For 5 years._

Her mouth opened. Then it shut. Then it opened again. Nothing came out.

The Admiral nodded at her gaping silence and began to move past her to signal the end of their meeting.

"Oh, and the length of the journey has been cut down from 5 years to 2. We've chosen a new planet. Class 1, uninhabited; unless you count the plethora of enormous ferocious beasts, but I'm sure or friends will have no trouble with that. Ceti Alpha V."

He reached the door and turned the handle; apparently it didn't lock from the inside, calling to her motionless figure, "You can handle this, Jackson. I didn't put you through years of training so you could spend the rest of your life frequenting Sky Cafes and pretending to lose your boyfriends' contact information."

With that, he ducked out of sight, only to reappear a moment later with a; "You were right, by the way. You never really leave the Special Ops."

**A/N- I know, I know, it's moving so slowly your brain might seep out your ears, but I promise things will speed up. I'm trying to put as much background and science into this as I can without reading like a textbook because lots of things in chap 1 and 2 will pop up again later. We get to meet our Augmented Cumberbabe in the next one.**

**Yes, the brainwork is important, but I can't tell you why yet. I promise it will come up, just bare with me.**

**Special thanks to VivieAnne and IAmYourPhobia.**

**Cheers!**


	3. 3 Shell

**3 Days Later**

Her flat was spotless. Not that it had ever been anything different, but now the drawers were empty, the cupboards, bare, every trace of her existence washed away by a montage of chemical cleaners.

It was sort of sad, really. How bright her flat looked now that the gathering loneliness had been swept from the corners.

She hesitated in the doorway, checking everything meticulously in case she forgot anything. She hadn't. The duffel containing every belonging she'd owned since life in the army had been packed aboard the Enterprise. Her own clothes were in storage; unneeded when she had 2 years worth of both medical and engineering uniforms tucked somewhere aboard the ship.

She wore the blue one currently, mentally raising a middle finger to whatever testosterone flooded council had opted for mini dresses as the standard for women and making a note to procure some pants before meeting Khan officially.

Before she knew it, she was winding through Headquarters once more, the halls and their various occupants passing in and out of her peripheral like ghosts.

The voyage was to begin today, and it wasn't the stress of its length that had her worried, unlike most of the crew members. Most of said crew, however, weren't in charge of manhandling a volatile Goliath who had single handedly killed 3000 people within a week.

"Jax!"

The voice that shook her from whatever daze held her captive was masculine, flirtatious and blonde with glittering eyes and a smoldering grin that could reduce most women to giggling masses of incoherence. Yes, she could hear _all_ of that.

A smile crept over her teeth and she turned to accommodate the tall figure dressed cockily in yellow as he barreled into her, enveloping her willowy frame in a rib cracking embrace that lifted her toes off the ground.

"Jim Jam!" It came out as more of a strangled gasp, but the ease in pressure confirmed that he'd heard.

Wendi was set back onto the floor gently, and her attacker stepped back to appraise her with sparkling eyes.

"You can't call me that. I outrank you." He told her, dropping an arm companionably around her shoulders and steering her down the hall. "That's Captain Jim Jam to you."

The eye roll was imminent.

"Ease off, Kirk. I'm not on your ship yet." She smirked. The expression was soon replaced by a grimace as a pretty brunette waved sweetly in Kirk's direction before scowling at her. "And I'm definitely not one of your girlfriends."

Wendi batted his arm off her shoulders as Kirk winked in the passing officer's direction. His attention returned to her shortly afterward, though, the knicker-dropping curve of his lips sliding into a far more comfortable smile that sent flurries of nostalgia into Wendi's chest. It was a smile easy to return to her friend.

"I never could win you over, Jackson." He sighed wistfully.

She snorted.

"Good thing too. Or we'd never have become friends and you'd have gotten your ass handed to you in that galaxy bar on Mars."

"Hey, I had it under control."

"He had you in a headlock, Jim."

Kirk's expression twisted at the memory, but it relaxed shortly afterwards, and he raked a large hand through the honey colored curls atop his head in defeat.

"I owe you that one, Jax. But don't bring it up on the Enterprise, yeah? I've already got the worst rep in history, and you can check the books. I can't have pretty girls asking me for favors in front of my crew."

"That's not how favors work, but I'll see what I can do."

Wendi turned her attention back to the hallway as it suddenly ended in a set of steel doors. Yellow clad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as he scanned a keycard, prompting the doors to slide open with a hiss.

He gestured for her to go ahead. She eyed him suspiciously.

The laugh came back, accompanied with a slight shake of his head.

"I'm being a gentleman, not a pervert."

She moved forward, but didn't believe for a second that her brazen friend was telling the truth. "Although..." he muttered, letting out a low whistle as he fell into step beside her.

Wendi elbowed him sharply in the ribs, but he merely chuckled. "The military did a good job on you." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she folded her arms over her chest.

"Shut up."

But the content smile on board her face wasn't soon to go away. It had been 3 years since she had waved goodbye to the egotistical Captain as he boarded the ship now under his control before she was swept under cover. 3 years was a long time, and Wendi was surprised to find herself relieved that Kirk had not lost even a smidgen of the arrogance he'd displayed so proudly at their first meeting.

"So you're a blue shirt, huh? Giving Bones a run for his money?"

"No, just assisting for the first month." She snorted. "You know I'm better off in red."

"Oh, did Hendrix let you double?"

"Yeah. I count as two staff members now. Spaces need to be filled somehow."

That much was true. She was boarding the Enterprise as a medical assistant and switching roles every 30 earth days; a solution that had been used on more than one cadet; some even diving into the project as miscellaneous triple threats.

Kirk knew of her involvement with the Special Ops, as did Bones and likely Spock, but she was yet to tell anyone about her most recent assignment.

"What made you decide to come back?"

She shrugged.

"I guess I wasn't done saving the world yet."

He grinned.

"See you on board, Doc."

"Captain."

Kirk left her side and vanished into a buzzing crowd of reds, blues, and greys as they prepared for takeoff.

The USS Enterprise shone happily in the January sun, pridefully displaying her newly welded exterior and freshly painted title.

Despite what she had told Kirk, the sight of her new home only served to intimidate. It was her first time in space since the study abroad in Mars where she'd met him, but even then, it was only 2 weeks. This time she was signing two _years_ of her life away; mainly to a ferocious prisoner who probably didn't care about whether she survived or not. She looked up at the Enterprise again and swallowed.

_Something had caught her eye along the side of the folded metal._

_They were letters; or at least they used to be before the collision with earth's crust had mutated them into chicken scratch._

_Only a few of the markings were distinguishable, but even so, her guesses didn't make much sense._

A sharp pain pricked angrily in front of the sudden memory, and she rubbed at her temple, frowning to herself and narrowly avoiding collision with another blue shirted officer by stepping quickly away from the oncoming shoulder.

"Sorry Miss Jackson!" Sulu apologized, hurrying away with a cheerful wave that she dazedly returned.

"My bad!" she returned, a bit too late.

Whatever it was that has caused the flash migraine had disappeared into the abyss of her subconscious, but it left her with an increasing feeling of unease as she headed up a long ramp into the very belly of the gigantic, cast iron beast.

"Mr. Spock," she called, crossing the floor of the busy Bridge to his motionless figure. "Wendi Jackson."

He tipped his head in her direction and made a note on his PADD.

"Your presence is accounted for."

"Good to see you too."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, but nothing more than that, and Wendi rolled her eyes before leaving.

She could feel his gaze burning a hole through the back of her head as she walked, and she slowed her pace ever so slightly, almost making it to the exit before-

"It is...nice to see you again, Miss Jackson."

Her tiny smirk remained as she turned slightly back to him. The peeved expression plastered to his face was carefully constructed; the smallest drip of sincerity leaking sneakily from the barest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

5 years ago, Spock had been as difficult to get along with as a rabid porcupine; Kirk had introduced them before his first mission. 2 minutes into the conversation, he had made a completely unnecessary comment about her estranged father's weapons business that left her fuming. A wry comment about his haircut later left him a pale shade of lime. Both had stormed off, much to Kirk's dismay, creating the first chapter of a very immature, dislocated relationship that revolved mostly around their mutual friendship with Jim.

It wasn't until Vulcan was destroyed that they stumbled blindly onto common ground. She was older; hardened by the military. He was humanized, somewhat, and their mutual lack of family seemed to haphazardly bond them both.

Nothing could stop her from making fun of his bangs, though, and he occasionally commented on her maturity. Or lack thereof.

She nodded once before setting her course for the prison bay.

As much as she'd have liked to ignore that particular responsibility until they'd left, a blip on her PADD during the exchange with Spock signaled a message from Hendrix.

**Prison Bay area 1. Augment in containment. Your assignment begins immediately.**

* * *

When she turned the corner, this wasn't what she was expecting to see.

Everything she'd ever heard about him, every photo she'd ever seen, ever scrap of video footage showed a livewire; all anger and fury and hatred wound deep beneath a layer of flawlessly pale skin and muscle. The Khan Noonien Singh she'd been investigating was dangerous and sharp, intelligent beyond all reason: a relic of a time where violence was curbed by harsher violence and he was the king of it all.

This was no Emperor.

A dead man was sitting on the only bench, pale skin like sagging marble with his shoulders hunched the tiniest fraction. His spine, while still as ramrod straight as she'd ever seen it, was propped against the backwall as if he hadn't the strength to hold himself up.

Around his neck and wrists were bands of metal that looked barely large enough to allow the blood past them.

"How do you like the accessories?"

Hendrix's voice startled her and she spun to address him.

"Sir?"

He gestured to his own neck.

"Heat-triggered electro therapy. Basically a shock collar. If the outside comes within 3 inches of human skin, it gives him a little warning."

The Augment hadn't moved an inch, and she eyed the decorations warily.

"How little?"

"Only 100 volts. It's 200 if he comes in contact."

She furrowed her brows in distaste.

"That's inhumane. He looks like an animal."

Hendrix shrugged to her dismay.

"There's nothing he's done yet to prove that he isn't."

"Sir, please. Look at him." she lowered her voice as if it would prevent Khan from overhearing, but he still appeared to be nearly comatose. "I don't think he's going to do much. The only reason he did what he did was to save his family. That's not really on the list anymore."

The Admiral narrowed his gaze at her statement.

"You're not on his side, Jackson. He killed thousands of people who had families just as important as his. I'm stretching ethics just to drop him somewhere else, and these were a necessary precaution. Some of the crew weren't too keen on having him kept alive, much less conscious during this voyage. Remember your loyalties."

She took a step back.

"It's not a question of loyalty, sir. Just an observation."

The once-over hendrix gave her was enough to make her gulp, but he sighed in resignation.

"Listen, Jackson. I know you've been through a lot more than most should ever have to. I know you've got a head full of morals and ideals, but this is different. This is complicated, and as Admiral, you're just going to have to trust that I know what I'm doing. All I'm asking you to do is get him there in one piece. There are more than a few on this ship who wouldn't mind getting a bit of revenge for their own loss, but that's not what Starfleet is about anymore, and I don't want to start off this new era with more blood."

With that, Hendrix turned and moved slowly to the door. "Good luck," he said to the air, then disappeared.

Wendi reeled with this new weight.

Hendrix's motives behind assigning her to this project were as clear as muddy water at this point, and the sudden accusation followed by a brief speech on her "morals" didn't serve any light on the subject; neither did the sudden assignment change from shadowing to protecting.

She made her way toward the glass separating her from the shell inside, and the longer she watched him stare into nothing, the less of him she could actually see, like he was fading before her very eyes.

"Khan, I'm Agent Jackson." she said firmly. "I'll be your supervisor for the duration of the voyage.

He didn't move. She didn't expect him to, really, and she sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

"You called me Khan."

The voice sounded so unlike his that she blinked, almost expecting someone else to tap her on the shoulder and say "Eh hem, I'm over here."

It was raspy and hollow from disuse, and it sent shivers down her spine like nails on a chalkboard would.

"Um, what else would I call you?"

He stared through the wall.

"Prisoner. A number, perhaps. Any number of vile expletives, there are so many to choose from."

She folded her arms over her chest.

"What do you want me to call you?"

The words came slowly, as if he were speaking through a heavy weight.

"I wish nothing from you."

"Okay, Khan it is. Unless you prefer John Harrison?"

"I would never wish to be titled under that horrid pet name your Marcus shrouded me in."

And it was a snarl. A hidden bout of hatred so intense that she nearly stepped away from him, but it was gone the next second and he was unreadable once more.

She cleared her throat.

"So...Khan."

He was silent again, watching the wall blankly without a twitch in his body.

She waited, awkwardly tapping her fingers against her arm until finally, she turned to leave.

Just as she was crossing the threshold, a shredded whisper filled the room with a melancholy thick enough to slice.

"I am not even that...anymore."

**Sorry for the delay, Shakespeare calls. I competed in an Ensemble scene from King Charles II. We went over time, and that cost us a placing, but otherwise, we did beautifully. I met so many lovely people, and my team was the most delightful group of ruffians I've ever had the privilege of traveling with.**

**Along with that, Uni is...Uni. My History of RocknRoll class has become incredibly intensive. I write when I can, but I'm afraid my scattered brain has been manifesting itself in my writing.**

**Cheers!**


	4. 4 Resignation

Wendi shook off the goosebumps from Khan's personality change as she left, informing the silent guard on duty that she was leaving until takeoff and that he was in charge.

The man looked slightly nervous, and she didn't blame him, but she wanted to find her quarters before they left and consoling cadets wasn't exactly on her to-do list.

Her room wasn't far from the Holding Bay; a fact that made her both grateful and slightly nauseous. At least she wouldn't have to walk far to fetch her new charge for breakfast, but if he _did_ decide to go berserk, she'd be one of the first to know, even if she wasn't dragging him around at the time.

The sudden blur of a lab coat barreled around a tight corner and collided squarely with her chest, knocking her a few steps backwards and him to the ground.

"Holy shit!" she chided, rubbing her sternum and reaching out a hand to help him up. "Watch it!"

"I do apologize, ma'am!" he sputtered, fixing his wire rimmed glasses and peering up at her through tight, brown eyes. He took the outstretched limb and she hauled him to his feet, where he brushed imaginary dust off his coat and smoothed his snowy hair. "You've got quite a grip!"

"Um, thanks. Are you ok?"

He nodded vigorously and pretend to straighten his collar, shifting from foot to foot.

"Fine, fine. I'm Dr. Soong, by the way. Dreadfully sorry for running you over like that."

"That's ok, um, where were you running?"

His twitchy gaze was disconcerting.

"To my lab, it's on the 4th floor I think." He muttered to himself. Then, with a quick smile to her, stepped around her and set off at full sprint down the hall, yelling "Sorry again! I'll see you around!" as he went.

Wendi shook her head and was about to continue forward when a piece of paper caught her eye.

It was folded in a small, triangle shape, and she bent to pick it up with furrowed brows.

It was rare to see paper in this day and age, when everyone usually had a personal PADD to keep notes, data, contacts, and schedules on, and she unfolded it carefully, unused to the grainy texture.

She would have felt guilty had the note made any sense to her, but only a mass of disjointed equations met her eyes with a scribbled drawing of an odd bit of DNA in one corner. The markings made no sense to her, and she refolded the paper, tucking in her pocket along with a mental reminder to give it back if she ever saw the spastic man again.

The small space allotted to her was comprised of a main sleeping area and a bathroom the size of a walk in closet; all done in a harsh shade of white.

A slim bed was pressed against the left wall with a tiny, circular cabinet at the side that seemed to double as both a nightstand and a dresser. The top drawer was empty, but the bottom 3 were full of tidy rolls of garments; underthings, tank tops, sweatshirts and pants, and small, cotton shorts. Likely for her down time.

She shut all 3 and stuck the geometric note in the top one.

Further investigation revealed a compact closet, stuffed to the rafters with neatly pressed uniforms in red and blue. On the ground, she discovered a compartment containing the duffle she'd brought from her flat.

The camo-colored bag was plopped unceremoniously on the bed, and she unzipped it, reaching for the object on the very top.

It was a photograph. Tucked inside an oval frame designed to preserve the flimsy photo paper from damage, the picture contained 4 people dressed to the nines in Starfleet decorum, a professional pin on both the man and woman, and a gaudier, plastic version on both of the children. If you looked closely, the words "Junior Cadet" could be made out on both.

Wendi didn't look closely though. Instead, she set the frame on the bare side table and went for the bag again.

A straightener, an ultraviolet toothbrush, a comb, some makeup, a nail file, her PADD charger, basic toiletries that she added to the ones Starfleet provided, 2 pairs of combat boots (one black, one red), a heavy duty pocketknife, 3 different kinds of phasers, and a necklace composed of a cheap chain and a loop of white gold with a diamond nestled in its tendrils, several smaller crystals lining the sides.

Her mother's wedding ring.

She put it on with careful fingers and dropped it out of sight beneath her shirt.

The metal was unpleasantly cold against her sternum, but she ignored it, tucking the empty duffle back into the compartment in the closet and reaching for her PADD that had made a small noise during her unpacking.

**How you likin the digs?**

She snorted a bit at the message that was so obviously from Kirk, and typed back a reply before taking one last look around, sighing, then leaving.

**Blinding. Have you seen Khan?**

** Nope, and hopefully won't for 2 years.**

** We need to talk.**

** Every time I get that message, I either get dumped or punched in the face.**

** Funny.**

** I'm serious. I'm also on the Bridge.**

Wendi didn't respond to the last one, focusing instead on not walking into anyone as she made her way to Kirk. She seemed to be especially prone to collisions this week.

* * *

As she neared the top of the ship, a feminine voice she recognized as Lt. Nyota Uhura's echoed through every hall and hangar announcing "Takeoff in T-minus 10 minutes. All personnel, please report to stations. "

People scurried around her as she fought the current, heading towards their respective stations in order to buckle down for liftoff. She knew she should be doing the same thing, but she had already spotted Kirk in mid conversation with Sulu and headed in their direction.

He finished with Sulu as she neared, dismissing him with a monarchical nod before watching her with interest.

"What's up?"

"Khan is messed."

He shrugged.

"Hell, Jax! I could've told you that!"

She shook her head with a frown.

"No, I mean, he's not even acting crazy anymore, he just kind of sits there and stares at the wall. It freaks me out."

"Well, I'm not trying to be insensitive or anything, but the guy fought tooth and nail for the 72 popsicles we have in storage, and then watched us pretend to blow them up right in front of his face. I think even _you_ would be in shock if that happened."

She looked away from him, fighting off the pang of misery that usually accompanied any mention of her respective family.

Although Kirk knew her better than anybody, the line of work she'd chosen to pursue shrouded most of the details in her life in secrecy and unfiled reports. He had _no idea_ how spot on he was.

"Hendrix has him in a collar and cuffs," she told him, watching the buzz of cadets typing away at their computers.

"Hendrix is a little weird, but I don't blame him for that one."

"They electrocute him if he gets within 3 inches of anyone."

Kirk opened his mouth the tiniest fraction and shook his head.

"Yeah, that's…what do want me to say, Jax? You know what he did. You might have been gone when it happened, but I was there and I'll tell you up front that he deserves everything he's gotten and more."

The vehemence in his voice made her cringe, and she continued looking anywhere but his face.

Being in the military was never the glorified life they flashed on commercials. Honor, bravery, dedication, sure, but once she got past the brainwashing, they dragged her across Earth to the worst of places.

Hot and dusty with shelters made of twigs and scrap metal with occupants that were barely more than wire and torn fabric.

Children nothing more that jagged bones and sluffing skin.

And their eyes were the worst. She'd seen every color, every single color, but they all blended together into a hollow pool of loss and pain and she didn't want to see it anymore. There was nothing heroic about their suffering, and Kirk's was no different.

"Why'd you keep him alive, then?"

"Because I am better."

She recognized the statement from the recording's they'd collected from the Enterprise, but kept her expression carefully neutral. According to everyone except her squad, she'd been in the Sahara getting rid of a Sand Crawler rebellion that never actually happened.

Spock appeared at his shoulder, and Kirk gave her a meaningful glance as he turned away. The conversation was over, and she'd gotten nowhere.

At this point, she didn't even know where she was trying to get.

"Miss Jackson," a voice called to her from somewhere to her right.

Turning, she found Chekov twisting toward her with an arm over the back of his chair, one hand still on his keyboard. "We will be taking off very soon," he said carefully, probably reading the stiffness of her shoulders.

"Thanks," she told him, giving him a tight lipped smile before leaving the Bridge.

* * *

She would have headed straight to the Medical Bay, but a nagging in the back of her mind steered her down a different hall.

Wendi treaded carefully toward the glass, as if approaching a wounded animal, and stopped a meter or so before it.

"We'll be leaving soon," she called.

He didn't move. In fact, he hadn't moved since she'd last seen him, and if the powerful lungs beneath his ribcage hadn't been rising and falling in a slow rhythm, she would have thought he weren't alive. "It will be a bit rough, so you should strap yourself in."

Nothing.

She shrugged her shoulders and left. At least she'd tried.

* * *

"Wendi!" Bones waved her over to an empty seat beside him, and she took it gratefully, flopping heavily into the cushions and strapping herself down as the ship began to roar to life. "Cutting it kind of close, don't you think?"

She grinned cautiously. Kirk had probably informed the good Doctor of her arrival, but whether or not he knew the details remained to be seen.

"Hey, Bones."

"Looks like you're still in the game."

She nodded, grateful that her friend wouldn't require every detail like Kirk would, and he grimaced. "You weren't kidding when you said you couldn't leave."

"Nope."

Probably recognizing that she didn't want to talk about that particular subject, he smoothly changed it.

"So, medical?"

"Engineering too. I'm a double."

"Good, that's good."

He puttered off, and she felt slightly guilty for killing the conversation, but Bones seemed to have attributed her lack of enthusiasm to nerves, and made no further attempts. Thankfully, Uhura's voice flowed almost immediately over the air, and they both turned face forwards.

"Ready for takeoff. Countdown begins at 10…9…8…7…"

Wendi gripped the arm rests of her chair hard enough to drain the blood from her knuckles as the countdown continued, inhaling deeply through her nose, and watching Bones shoot her a sentimental glance out of the corner of her eye. "6…5…4…"

He was telling her not to worry, and she was nodding, focusing solely on the solid feeling of the restraints across her chest and the solidness of the chair around her. This was it.

Her heart began to pound traitorously against her ribs, despite the military cool she'd had drilled into her for 5 odd years, and she tipped her head back, breathing deeply, and closing her yes in utter resignation. "3…2…1…."


	5. 5 Memorandum

**Sorry, not an update. Just some knit-picking.**

**A/N I'm not going to beg for reviews, but on a site like this, the number of comments can determine whether a story is deemed worthy to read.**

**If you think this is good enough to be enjoyed by many, please feel free to pop in and leave a note. Good, bad, one letter, one word, a smiley face, anything; you're the audience, and you determine the fate of this story (rightfully so). Thanks so all those reading and reviewing already, you're the butter to my cream. Cheers!**

Although the roughest part of the ride was over, Wendi was still curled into a ball in her seat; arms around the knees she was currently smashing her eyeballs into in an attempt to quell the nausea roiling in her stomach.

She was not a queasy girl. Years of bad drivers and less than adequate shock absorbers had turned

her into a pretty tolerant block of person, but none of that seemed to matter now.

_Driving across the barren ice cap was boring and long, the only source of entertainment being Ruska Benophile's horrible steering that often nearly threw the hover jeep and it's passengers out into the snow._

She gritted her teeth as the blood pounded in her head, washing away the flash of…something before she could grasp it. She thought she was going to be sick.

"Wendi, you've got to get up at some point." Bones' voice came from somewhere behind her and she groaned.

"Can't," she grumbled. "Knock me out."

His footsteps tapped closer and closer on the metal grating.

"Come on, space is great!"

She only grumbled in reply.

Light fingers tapped on her head and she lifted it slightly, peering at the doctor over the fabric of her sleeve. He was holding a palm out to her, on the flat of which was snuggled a tiny, silver pill. "It's for the motion sickness," he told her as she took it.

"You're lovely," she sighed, tossing the pill back dry. "Got any paracetemol?"

Bones was walking away, though, and either ignored her plea for medication or didn't hear it.

"That should work pretty quickly, but I've got to get to work. I'm on A shift."

"Aren't I on A shift, too?" she called, finally undoing the straps taping her to the seat and setting her nearly steady legs to work.

"Yeah, you're also slightly green," he retorted, grinning at her over his large shoulder. "It's the first day, no one is sick or injured…yet."

The raised eyebrow she gave him fell to the back of his head as he reached for a box of sealing plasters, stacking a container of hypo-spray on top. "Go find a window before we clear the milky-way; you can't see very many details when we're at warp."

"Okay," she said to his suggestion, feeling slightly warmer as the silver Dramamine began to kick in.

Bones smiled at her and twitched his head to the side so she would follow him.

"You know, I don't get it," he began thoughtfully as they crossed the room. "Why would Hendrix stick you in here specifically? And that creepy text was a little over the top. Even for him."

She grimaced. If any time were opportune for the truth, it would be now. Besides, she figured she'd want Bones in the know in case she ever needed help.

"I'm actually on a mission."

He gave her a concerned glance and stopped, shifting the load onto his hip.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not just here to help you and Chekov. Hendrix pretty much stapled me to Khan's ass for two years."

His eyes widened in alarm and he stepped close to her, lowering his voice to an unnecessarily intense hiss.

"Are you serious?!"

"No, I was kidding. Why are you whispering?"

Bones shook his head in morbid wonder, straightening up before continuing a flustered pace along the hall.

"I'm going to kill Hendrix when we get back. Khan is a-"

"Yeah, yeah I know, he _was_. He just kind of…_sits_ there now, though. Believe me; this morning I was afraid he'd bash my head in half the second he saw me, but now I'm not so sure. I already told Kirk, but he doesn't believe me."

She paused as the doctor shifted the boxes again so he could reach for a keycard on his belt.

"And Jim has every right not to. Look, If I learned anything about Khan, it's that he's a _really_ good liar. I can't go against Hendrix, but I will say this." He turned to face her, backing through the now open door ominously. "Be careful, Wendi. His brain is bag full of cats. I'll see you in an hour."

And then he disappeared.

* * *

Spock was alone for the moment; something rare for him since his academy life had tied him to this particular ship. He reveled in the quiet momentarily, treading the empty halls with a stern sort of bliss.

When he had told Kirk he was merely going to "run a diagnostic", he hadn't been lying. Not really. But something had stuck with him since that morning, something he'd overheard that he genuinely refused to believe was true (and it was not denial, damn it all.)

Sure enough, the familiar bulk of the Augment that he'd been locked in combat with not a year ago certainly looked quite a bit…less. It only deepened the creases between Spock's brows.

"I see you have decided to refrain from quarreling. Well done. You have learned to accept when you are beaten."

The object of his jibe did nothing, and Spock would have felt slightly foolish…if he weren't feeling so malicious.

His feet carried him within inches of the glass and he felt the twinge of a sneer curl at the corner of his mouth before Vulcan genetics wiped it away. "There are those on this vessel who believe your façade of submission, but I assure you, the amount of those who would rather see you in cryogenic hyper-sleep or worse greatly outnumber the former."

Moments spun on; the hateful Vulcan staring down an unmoving mass in silence.

Until,

"You are threatening me…Mr. Spock."

The black haired officer glared in triumph at Khan's profile.

"You are correct." He spat. "Whatever games you intend to play with the member of _my_ crew, I assure you; I am not so naïve as to trust a snake. The moment you give me any reason to think you possess ill intentions toward anyone aboard the Enterprise, I will not hesitate to end you."

A long pause.

"I certainly hope that is a promise."

* * *

The Bridge gave her a fantastic view of the passing planets and meteors; all spread haphazardly across the pitch black landscape, and she had spent the last twenty minutes receiving amused glances from most of the personnel with her face half an inch from the glass. She probably would have still been there, too, had Kirk successfully disguised his sniggering behind a cupped hand as he passed.

Wendi followed him with a huff, chasing after his yellow shirt at a barely dignified trot while he maneuvered his way back up to his throne.

"You've been in space before, Jax. Don't look so starry-eyed. Or did you forget Mars already?" he jabbed, facing her.

She rolled her eyes at the pun.

"I don't think I will _ever_ be able to forget Mars."

"Best 2 weeks of your life, right?"

He was grinning, sitting lightly in his chair and pulling up a holo-screen to map their progress. She stepped up next to him and leaned against the leather furniture, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I can't remember details. It's all a blur of bad decisions and nasty food."

"And?" he pressed, waggling his eyebrows at her while still attempting to work.

"And you getting punched through a table."

His eyes made a full circuit in their sockets before he turned back to the screen, pulling up a star chart and locating their particular signal.

"You're forgetting the most mind-blowing makeout session you've ever had." His fingers never stilled, darting over the screen like well-trained spiders as he ran 2 simple diagnostics and she watched them with a hint of admiration.

"I would hardly call it mind blowing."

Kirk shot her theatrically offended glare and she smirked because she knew he knew she was lying. In her defense, they had both been incredibly drunk at the time; buzzing with the adrenaline of a daring rescue and fear of combat. It was only supposed to be a peaceful trip to experience other cultures from an educational standpoint, but during their free time, neither saw many museums like the rest of their class.

* * *

_Wendi had been young at the time; 19 and fresh meat in the academy's eyes. Finally free from a controlling and abusive father who had spent the day calling her a failure and disgrace for her lack of interest in his intergalactic weapons franchise. Kirk had been an alcoholic playboy who frowned on every aspect of responsibility and couldn't see past a pretty face; or so she'd thought when he'd stumbled her way the night before they were due to leave for Mars._

_ That had been a classier joint, but it didn't change anything other than the ambiance for her sour mood as she slumped, alone at a booth far from the throbbing subwoofers and sweaty bodies, nursing a glowing blue drink between her fingers. _

_ Kirk had, of course, been having the night of his life. Again._

_ The alcohol made everything big and beautiful, and he was absolutely invincible._

_ They were like fire and water in that moment; and for some hazy reason, Kirk thought that was a fantastic mix. _

_ "Hey gorgeous, you come here often?"_

_ The younger, shorter haired Wendi Jackson was slumped miserably in her booth, staring angrily into the glass with her chin propped in her palm; barely acknowledging the cool cat leaning casually near her table._

_ "Piss off, " she grumbled alcoholically, willing herself to look less vulnerable._

_ Whether she accomplished the feat or not, it seemed to have no effect on the stranger's determination._

_ "Hey, come on. My name's Jim. What's yours?" He asked cheerfully._

_ Some horrible bass line pounded ruthlessly against her intoxicated skull while the hot, sticky air slathered bits of airborne sweat to her skin. With this new addition of muscle, charm, and expensively potent cologne, Wendi was beginning to feel claustrophobic._

_ "I'm not going home with you, ok? Just leave me alone."_

_She tipped the rest of her drink into her mouth and covered her face with her hands._

_"Look, I'm not the most emotionally receptive guy in the world, but I can tell when a lady needs a good talk and a shoulder to cry on." He neared her and rested a hot hand on her forearm. "I can be that shoulder."_

_Wendi smacked the palm away and stood, edging between him and the table, muttering; "I'm going home."_

_ "My place is just around the corner," Jim insisted, trailing her side with a sloppy hand on the small of her back._

_ "Go away, Jim." _

_ "You remembered my name!" he exclaimed as she shoved at him. _

_ His intoxicated bulk reeled back before swaying into her, the hand on her lower spine slipping scandalously low and the other gripping blindly for a hand hold that ended up being her opposite shoulder._

_ That was enough for her._

_ Wendi jerked away again, pulling a fist back and slamming into the pearly white of his heart-breaking smile._

_ It was merely a week before she saw him again on a study abroad to Mars. The Academy had sent them to experience life outside Earth, as well as to adjust to different gravity, air pressure, and time zone. While the Professors accompanying them dragged them through the main cities and historical sites by day, the students were permitted to do mostly whatever they liked at night, as long as it was lawful, of course._

_Some of the students actually slept, making the most of the technologically adept suites they had been allowed. Most, however, explored and enjoyed the night life for lack of better things to do. This night was no different._

_She had heard about it by accident when her tour group had gone ahead while she was examining a painting of the solar system from the 1900s. Hurriedly, she had exited the museum and ducked onto a side street, hoping to wrap around the building and catch sight of her class. Of course, the side street turned out to be a filthy alley, spitting her out into a run down version of the rest of the city._

_She cursed her luck and started to backtrack when a gravelly, deep voice filtered down to her from a cracked window._

_"...the galaxy bar on Venetian Avenue. Sure, it's boring now, but you wait until the sun goes down. I heard they've got a special menu. I only know one of the drinks. It's called the Eclipse."_

_Wendi had slowed her pace, listening curiously to the voice in the wall. _

_"What's so special about the menu?" A nasally voice had whined. "The Centurion has one too, but every drink on it is overpriced and disgusting." The raspier one chuckled._

_"Heard they use Moon Sugar in some and Lovers Bones in others. But the Eclipse has both."_

_She hurried away, nearly tripping in her haste but grinning nonetheless._

_Moon Sugar was a fine powder derived from a glowing mushroom on Gamma XI that caused wild hallucinations before the victim inadvertently killed themselves trying to fight off an invisible foe. In small doses, the drug was harmless, spinning the user into a sweet state of bliss; surrounded by everything and anything that made them happy. It only lasted for about an hour if the dealer measured right. The powder was outlawed when too many users became addicted, eventually overdosing and meeting a violent suicide._

_Lovers Bones was a syrup. Sweet and pungent that was said to smell exactly like summer (however _that_ smelt). Extracted from a huge, violet flower with waxy petals in the perilous rainforests of Haru'k Ai, the delicious nectar numbed the nervous system receptors in the brain, leaving the devourer numb and warm, like sitting the perfect distance from a warm fire. Outlawed when crime bosses began to take advantage of the inability to feel pain, creating a sort of super criminal that could only be stopped by very permanent and very unfortunate means: death. Now it was used as a carefully administrated controlled anesthetic in hospitals across space._

_Both of them in combination could be very dangerous, but Wendi was feeling rebellious and her father was nowhere near close enough to find out._

_She located her classmates without much trouble after that, but her mind was buzzing, anticipation for the near future whisking through her veins._

_Darkness fell and city lights rose to combat the black, bathing the red rock streets in a cool fluorescent glow, but the farther Wendi moved from the glinting silver of the main city, the more shadows there seemed to be._

_Streetlights went from white to an old, dinghy yellow, casting a sick, rotting glow over the rusting buildings. Darkness crept in tendrils across the streets, wrapping themselves around its children as they scurried from one deal to the next, one prostitute to the other, and Wendi wove between them all._

_Clothed in her favorite red, backless dress with the plunging neckline and tiny straps, she slithered between the seedier folk, feeling afraid but alive for the first time that year._

_At first the apparel had seemed to cry out for attention, but as she wound in and out of the shady crowds of business wives and lower, she found with satisfaction that she blended right in._

_The bar was tucked underneath a bakery, so tightly she almost missed it. An old fashioned neon sign blinked a haphazard Open, and the title of the establishment was just above._

_The Dark Side of the Moon._

_She smirked at the cheesy moniker and ducked inside, nearly choking on thick cigarette ash as the door slid open. Inside, the Dark Side looked like your average seedy pub. Antique armchairs decorated the corners as well as real wooden booths. There was even a salvaged pool table, looking ragged but at home in the anciently furnished establishment._

_A red brick overlay flickered across the walls, giving it a late 21st century air as various life forms filtered in and out, socializing briefly or not at all._

_An enormous, hairy Wookie shouldered his way past her and she caught a whiff of something very strong and slightly spicy dribbling into his fur. She wondered what he'd had._

_Wendi settled into a stool and waited patiently for the bartender, a beefy Martian with dark, rust colored skin and a bushy mustache of prickles._

_"How can I help you, miss?" He asked, his accent thick._

_She smiled briefly and tried to appear nonchalant._

_"Eclipse." She muttered._

_"Make that 2."_

_Wendi spun around in disbelief. Sure enough, the cocky stranger from a week prior was leaning sweetly against the bar, a not so innocent grin plastered over his face and a gleam in the crystalline eyes currently sweeping across her scantily clad form. Suddenly, the dress didn't seem like the best of ideas._

_"Not you again." She muttered unhappily, crossing her arms and turning back toward the space where the bartender used to be._

_"Hey. I'm just here to have a nice drink. No flirting, no emotional conversations. I learned my lesson last time." He propped his elbows against the table and leaned his lower back against the edge of the cool, black marble. "It's not _my_ fault you decided to show up in the same bar. Speaking of which, why are you here? This isn't exactly the finest establishment around, and certainly not the most conveniently placed."_

_Wendi grudgingly allowed him that but in no way loosened her firmly annoyed appearance._

_"What's it to you?"_

_Jim's grin faltered, but only slightly as he straightened and eased himself onto the stool beside her._

_"Are you like this to _everyone_ you meet?" He asked her incredulously, peering through slightly squinted eyes at her profile._

_"Only the ones who grab my ass after I tell them to shove off." She snapped, turning to address him fully at last. "Look, I'm sorry. Alright? Sometimes people just get screwed over and they don't feel like being nice. Even to drunk people who don't mean to harass them." The admission wasn't intentional, and as guarded as it was, Wendi realized almost instantly that she had shared that bit of personal information with a complete stranger. A stranger that probably didn't care who she was. The frown crept over her face like a spider, tugging her eyebrows down with its web as she looked away. "Just forget that." She said, and moved to stand._

_A soft hand on her elbow made her glare furiously at the idiot at her side, but meeting his eyes, she stopped. Where mischief and smoldering seduction had once lurked, there was now softness and understanding. It threw her off guard, to say the least, and she paused, staring blankly into his gaze._

_"Tell me about it." He murmured, smiling a tiny smile. Inside of the declaration, she found no ulterior motive, merely a simple understanding, blunt and refreshing that melted her icy heart just enough for her to sit slowly back down. There was also an invitation. To talk, to relate, to be understood, but she wasn't ready for that just yet. _

_Still, the change rocked her._

_The bartender broke the spell, clinking two shot glasses full of a faintly pulsing liquor and another 2 small vials of liquid topped with corks down before them before leaning forward slightly._

_"I'd not drink them here." He whispered brusquely before collecting his payment and wandering to the next customer._

_"What is this stuff?" Jim wondered, eyeing the corked vial scrutinizingly before tucking it into his pocket._

_"Tell you later." She replied, reaching for the shot._

_"To meeting new people." The boyish grin had returned and Wendi tapped his glass with her own before holding it up to the light for inspection._

_"Hang on. I don't know what this stuff is." She began as he tossed his back._

_One look at Jim, a seasoned drunk, told her that it was, extremely strong. His nose scrunched adorably and he slammed the empty cup to the marble with enough force to break a regular glass._

_"Damn!" He gasped, a goofy grin creeping over his face and leaking into his eyes. "That is good stuff!"_

_Wendi marveled at the speed of the drug as Jim meandered away from her, dropping into a chair across from a blue skinned Plutonian wearing nothing but what looked like skimpy lingerie._

_She rolled her eyes and turned back to her own glass._

_The orangey bartender returned a few moments later and she waved him over._

_"What's in this?" She muttered, gesturing to the glowing drink._

_"Nothin..._special_ in _that_ one. Just Lava Liquor with a bit of cyan. Old recipe. Very strong, very quick, very draining. Goes well with the other one." He winked at her and left._

_Wendi felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth and she swirled the drink, feeling the slight weight of the vial in her bag pull eagerly at her arm._

_If her father could see her now. _

_She smirked._

_"This one's for you, dad." She declared and lifted the stuff to her lips._

_Before she could pour any of it down her throat, an angry roar echoed over the throb of music, and she craned her neck around to see what caused the disturbance, her heart jumping in her chest._

_An enormous, scaly mass of muscle and limbs had Jim dangling off the ground by his shirt front while his head lolled away from the large, fanged face. Two arms held him in the air while the other two ended in threatening fists._

_"Mine!" He roared, one meaty finger jabbing in the direction of the indigo woman currently looking bored as she sipped a Margarita._

_Wendi almost chuckled._

_"Hey, man. You seriously need a mint." Jim slurred. "Besides. She's totally into me."_

_Wrong answer._

_With a deafening cry that might have shaken the very foundation, the gargantuan beast cast the smaller man violently across the room._

_His limp body crashed through two tables, causing a few high pitched screams as everyone in the bar became very aware of the eminent fight. Jim struggled to his feet, one hand on a probably heavily bruised back as a cut on his arm began to bleed through the grey, Starfleet student uniform. Soberness seemed to be leeching back to him as adrenaline fought through his liver and into his blood._

_"Bring it on," He challenged, charging the impenetrable monster._

_Maybe not._

_He levelled a strong punch into the creature's single, bulbous eye and it howled, swinging blindly for its prey. Jim couldn't move fast enough however, and was caught like a mouse in a cat's paw, slowly beginning to turn red as his neck was crushed in the junction of a single, purple, scaled arm._

_Wendi swore and jumped off of her chair as the bartender began shouting in another language, riling the surrounding crowd into an uproar._

_She shoved her way through the crowd and dashed to her idiotic acquaintance's aid without a second thought._

_The brute was gurgling profanities in some gravelly dialect that she wasn't familiar with and it blended with the surrounding noise that all seemed to fade into a dull roar. The low lights of the bar cast a surreal glow over the situation as she ducked beneath the two rough, purple arms that swung her way._

_"If we get out of this alive, I will kill you!" She shouted at Jim's head, bringing her knee sharply into his captor's exposed underbelly._

_The move was entirely sloppy-guessing, but Jim was suddenly dropped to the ground, gasping and clutching his throat as whatever had been squeezing him doubled over in pain, making a disgusting squelching sound with two pale green tongues dangling from its many toothed mouth._

_Kneeling quickly, Wendi draped one of Jim's arms over her shoulders and pried him from the floor, still wheezing in protest._

_"Come on!" She hissed, dragging him forward until his feet caught up with them. They hobbled to the door and out into the night, nearly reaching the end of the street before Jim collected his bearings._

_Then they ran; not stopping until they reached Wendi's hotel room._

_Breathlessly, they nearly fell into the suite, Jim stumbled forward into a levitating armchair while Wendi locked the door and switched on the Do Not Disturb hologram before leaning heavily against the smooth metal._

_For a moment, they just focused on breathing. Inhale, exhale with hearts pounding in their ears._

_And then Jim let out a breathy chuckle. It was shallow and fast but it elicited a giggle from her...and that was all it took._

_As their hearts finally slowed and the adrenaline wore off, they laughed. And she didn't pretend it didn't feel good._

_"Holy shit." She gasped, pushing away from the door and flopping onto the couch next to his chair. Her hair was haphazardly escaping the tight coif she had originally twisted it into and she unpinned it now, toeing the uncomfortable stilettos from her feet._

_Jim made a noise of agreement and kicked off his own sneakers, pulling his arms behind his head._

_"Ouch." _

_She turned her head to see him eying the cut in his arm as it oozed half congealed blood and sat up, heading towards the tiny kitchen for a medi-case._

_"Just a sec," she called over her shoulder, checking 3 cupboards before she found the silver box._

_"I'm fine." He told her, noticing what she carried. Wendi rolled her eyes and knelt before him, hitting the button to opened the case and leaning back a bit as a white cloud of sterilizing fog drifted upwards and vanished._

_"I'm a medical student." She told him. "Do you even know how disgusting that bar is? You're probably going to die of an infection anyways, might as well let me practice."_

_He snickered sarcastically at her but held his tongue, grimacing as she slid a small swab of disinfectant gently over the wound, clearing it of sweat and anything else before sealing the skin back together with a thin layer of medical adhesive. Last of all was a sticky strip of gauze that molded to his flesh easily and protected the area while it healed. She moved methodically and almost robotically, falling easily back into old class routine._

_"You'll make a great doctor someday." He said earnestly, testing out his newly patched arm as she made to repeat the process on the cut decorating his left cheekbone._

_"Thanks," she replied quietly._

_This close up, he was actually quite handsome, in a foolishly-fearless, egotistical sort of way. He had an air about him that commanded respect, but his eyes were full of tricks and his perfect mouth quirked up in the corner; a childish demand for recognition wrapped in an I Know Everything complex. _

_"There."_

_She moved away to repackage the medi-case and set it on top of the coffee table._

_"Thanks." Jim told her, leaning back into the chair and closing his eyes. "Holy shit."_

_With a soft hum, Wendi agreed, flopping back onto the expensive sofa and tossing an arm over her eyes. She reached blindly for her handbag that she knew she'd dropped somewhere by her shoes, groping wildly with one hand until it made contact. Fully intending to locate her PADD and answer the very likely numerous messages from her father, she navigated her hand into the purse._

_Her fingers met with cool glass and they closed around it, lifting the object from the depths. _

_She sat up, dropping the arm covering her vision so that she could appraise her finding, and was pleased to locate in her fingers a small vial of swirling liquid, rippling with a whole spectrum of colors as she rotated the bottle slowly in her fingers._

_"Hey Jim," she said slowly._

_"Yeah? Oh."_

_She watched him duck a hand into his pocket and pull out a matching vial, a goofy grin splitting his features._

_"On 3?"_

_The stopper made a soft popping sound as she tugged it gently from the neck._

_"On 3."_

_She raised the small bottle to her mouth apprehension spinning happily beneath her skin and watched Jim do the same._

_"One." He began._

_"Two." _

_"Three."_

_At first, it was hot. White hot and scalding as it raced down her throat, and she almost choked, tears prickling at the corner of her mouth, but then it was over. Then her mouth felt sweet, sweet and soft like spun sugar and warm pancakes._

_For a moment, she thought that was. Just a burn with a balm that tasted really really great afterwards, but then it hit. Slowly, creeping up into her brain as her skin began to lose feeling and tiny pinpricks of light danced across her vision._

_ The next thing she knew, she was in Kirk's lap, staring doe-eyed into the beautiful, blue diamonds in his face while her mouth busied itself with his._

_ Everything else was a blur._

_ Wendi had woken up curled in a ball in the bathtub; Jim found himself sprawled over the coffee table._

_Neither knew exactly what else had transpired that night, but both were still fully clothed on awakening, and when Wendi made chocolate chip pancakes that morning to cushion the hangover, there didn't seem to be any unexplained awkwardness. _

* * *

The Captain interrupted her trip down memory lane with a confused: "What the…?", leaning forward to squint at the screen.

"What's up?"

"Spock is in the prison bay."

Wendi frowned.

"Which one?"

"Guess."

**This one was much longer. I think a better size is about 3000-5000 words. Sorry for the delay, Uni is my excuse again.**

**This is mostly back story, but from here on out, it will mostly be Wendi/Khan quality time**

**PS: I crossed the streams! Wookies are from Star Wars, but I figured that they could reasonably exist in the Star Trek Universe, or at least something that looked like them, so I don't feel bad at all. If you're a die hard fan of either and you are offended by my humour, feel free to comment! This story is yours, after all. **


	6. 6 Black and White

"How can you tell?" Wendi said anxiously, leaning in nearer to the screen.

Kirk lifted a finger to a row of numbers hovering over a location on a digital map of the ship.

"That's his pin."

She stared at him blankly and he hurriedly continued. "Whenever a door is opened, the code they use shows up here. Every branch has their own set of numbers; some open different doors than others. Engineering stays downstairs, medical sticks to Hall 3, biomedical engineering can't access anything besides the labs on level 2. The only ones who can get into every door are the high clearance security guards, me, you, and Spock."

"Are there any guards stationed around Prison Bay 1?"

Jim quickly tapped a few keys on his screen, but when the numbers changed, he merely raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Just you."

She raked a hand through the top of her thick, dark hair, and huffed; briefly worrying about the effects the action had wrought on her neat up-do.

"Awesome."

He looked at her sympathetically before turning back to the screen. "Good luck. Spock can be crazy. You should have seen what he did to Khan last year-"

"Thanks, Jim. Thank you so much."

With a small toss of her hands in defeat, she turned and headed brusquely for the exit, catching a few snippets of Kirk announcing their readiness to blast into Warp.

The enormous vessel gave a small shudder as it careened into space at the speed of light and she placed a hand on the railing to steady herself. 2 years began now.

* * *

Wendi rounded the corner just in time to catch the last slivers of a gravelly voice: "…that is a promise."

Spock had gone completely marble at that point. She could see the tight, white tendons in his neck and wrists where they peeked from his sky colored uniform as she approached him quickly.

"Please don't kill him. The Admiral would make my life hell."

The glare he had trained on the side of Khan's face was definitely a level 7 (a rating system she'd come up with a year or 2 after knowing Spock), and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as he turned it evenly onto her.

"Miss Jackson. It is to my knowledge that you are assigned to the first medical shift of this voyage," he accused bluntly. If he weren't so…_Vulcan_, Wendi suspected he'd have had the decency to look like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"I am. I'm also on the first Khan-babysitting shift, and I will be for two years." She floundered a bit as her superior dialed up the stare to an 8. "Um, look, Hendrix put me in charge of getting him to Ceti Alpha V in one piece, okay? I know you guys have history, and I don't care if you want to scream at him sometimes, but…do it when I'm not looking, and _definitely_ don't punch him. At least not as many times as you did on the trash carrier."

Her sad attempt to lighten the mood backfired as the man before her straightened even more than usual and puffed out his chest in a display of pointy eared, imperial dominance.

"Your orders are sound. I will respect my Admiral's requests." He nearly spat the last word, and she nodded quickly.

Spock had made it painfully clear that he was not pleased that she had interrupted his lover's spat with the melted pool of Augment behind the glass. His statement had held no promises, and she suspected that instead of ceasing to poke fun at her project, her commanding officer would just be more careful.

He shoved past her, and once again, she was alone with Khan.

He looked even shallower than when she'd first seen him; as if speaking to Spock (as little as he had actually said) had drained him. It was pitiful, really, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the guy- even though it was gone the instant San Francisco backhanded her brain.

"Sorry about him." She said, carefully, stepping nearly the same distance from the glass that Spock had been when she'd come in. "What did he say?"

Honestly, she didn't expect him to respond, and when he did, she almost jumped.

"I believe the Vulcan officer vowed to kill me should I dare to _entertain _the_ thought_ of harming any member of his crew."

"That sounds…" she shook her head. "Yeah, that sounds exactly like Spock."

"No matter. It was an empty threat."

The fact that he was still speaking directly to a point beyond the wall made the conversation feel very one-sided, and she wondered if he was actually talking to her.

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" she asked it merely to humor him, but the response was instantaneous.

"I am still alive."

_Lord._ The guy gave her _chills_.

She began to back out of the room.

"Um, okay, dinner is soon." She sputtered. "I'll bring it around so you don't have to get up or anything, bye." _Very fricking graceful, Wendi._

And she was out of there like a shot.

The medical wing was a relief; every ounce of melancholic tension was gone, and Wendi was prompted to breathe a sigh of relief, merely because she could without choking on Khan's aura.

Bones looked up as she entered and gave her a half smile as she made her way to his side.

"Did you see it?" he prodded, scooting over so that she could join him at his station.

"See what?" she questioned, confused.

"Space? You know the big black void we're flying through right now? It's not that important, I can see why it slipped your notice."

Wendi smiled a bit and shook her head.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, I totally saw it."

He was organizing medical supplies, she realized, and moved automatically to help him sort a newly opened box of derma-tape. "It was gorgeous. I can't believe how many stars there are."  
McCoy took the packages from her hands and stacked them into a cupboard, his serious eyes searching for her gaze.

"What happened?"

She finally met his concerned glance.

"Nothing, Bones, nothing. Spock just snuck into the prison bay while I was on the Bridge."

"He didn't try to strangle him did he?" Despite the promise of a joke, the question ended up somber. Another pile of tape exchanged hands. Eye contact wasn't dropped.

"No, just threatened him from what I found out, and I can't tell which one you figured would be doing the strangling. They both have an equal chance."

Bones tucked the remainder of the rolls into the cupboard and shut the doors, gesturing with one hand for an unopened box near her right elbow. She slid it over and pulled it open.

"That doesn't explain why you're so distracted." He reminded her, reaching for the contents; neat rows of silver disinfectant canisters.

"I know," she fiddled with a bottle of spray absentmindedly, twisting the seal between her fingers until the plastic began to chafe. "Khan is screwing with my head."

He waited for her to go on, slowing the sorting process as he watched her. "Sometimes, I just feel so bad for him, you know? He just wanted his family back and Starfleet kind of went:" she blew a short raspberry and Bones chuckled despite himself. "But then I remember California and the way the Enterprise looked when it came back and I hate him all over again." The seal broke beneath her tired fingers and Bones took the can from her. "It's giving me whiplash, and this is only the first day."

"Wendi…" he fiddled with the broken seal, trying in vain to reattach it to the bottle. "Do you remember what I said this morning? About Khan?"

"That his brain was a bag full of cats?"

"Yeah that. You can't let him get to you, okay? He's manipulative and smart and a damn good actor. The moment you let your guard down, that's when he hits the hardest."

Wendi looked quietly at her hands.

"It sounds like you found that out the hard way."

The answering press of his lips into a thin line was enough confirmation for her, though he didn't expound.

"We all did. He thinks he did the right thing, and to him, maybe it was, you know? One man's freedom fighter is another man's terrorist, but one thing is for sure: Khan is no black and white villain. Nobody ever is."

"Believe me, Bones. I know."

They continued on, gravitating around several new medical staff trainees while Bones went over the sorting and storing method for every single item in his med bay. Wendi zoned him out; using the time to organize 6 small desk magnets into a smiley face atop the Doctor's station, them stealing another off of each of the interns' desks to complete a tongue.

Most of the hires didn't even notice her, but of the 3 that did, only one of them half-smiled at her creativity.

She decided that she liked him.

Too soon, however, it was 1900 hours and that meant dinner for A shift.

The Enterprise's cafeteria was sheik and clean cut in design, done mostly in white, like her quarters, with an absence of the chrome that had been molded to every reasonable exterior before this part of the ship had been blown to pieces. She figured it was a good color. _White symbolizes new beginnings, or some weird shit like that, right?_

She followed Bones into the rapidly growing line of hungry cadets; most of the higher ranked officers had the option of leaving 5 minutes before the dinner throng appeared and were chatting casually with half emptied plates.

Their meal for that night was a rehydrated plate of spaghetti Bolognese, fresh salad (while it lasted), and a small container of applesauce. Not bad pickings, considering the time scope of their mission. She guessed that they would be stopping at several planets along the way to shop, refuel, and make repairs, so while there was earth food to be had, she wouldn't complain.

Her friend showed her the drink dispensers in the far corner and where to grab cutlery, but since she had 2 plates in her hands, she bid him farewell and carried both meals back to the prison bay.

In order to open the door, she had to balance her food on one raised knee and type her code in while wobbling on one foot. It was quite the feat- were anyone there to see it, but there wasn't, and Wendi felt rather alone.

Khan_ still_ had not moved. She noted this briefly as she walked towards him.

"Hey, I brought food. Spaghetti Bolognese, side salad, and a two year old's applesauce cup."

She placed both plates on the ground near the glass. "Hold on, I couldn't grab forks or napkins or anything with two. What kind of dressing do you want for the salad?"

Silence.

She waited, having assumed that every word had to be pulled from some dark place in his mind at this point and sometimes it took a while to do so, but as an invisible clock ticked on in her brain, she decided that 10 seconds was too long. "Ok, I'm gonna go with Italian tonight."

Still nothing, though she waited for only half the time she had prior, before beginning a half-jog back to the cafeteria.

Both Bones and Kirk waved at her from their table across the room, and she waved back, but didn't join them for fear of a venomous looking Vulcan glaring pointedly in her direction. It would probably be wise to steer clear of Bang-Bot for the next few days.

She went straight for the fork rack instead, grabbing doubles of everything.

"Wendi Jackson, is that you?"

Wendi turned to face the dark skinned officer currently beaming at her with sweet, brown eyes.

"Hi," she replied meekly, before the woman darted forward and surprised her with a soft hug.

Uhura pulled back and examined her, brow to boot, at arm's length.

"You've grown," she remarked. "And you've become so lovely"

True, Wendi hadn't been the tallest recruit under Uhura's order 4 years ago. Linguistics had been part of military training; optional, but it gave her more time away from home. Uhura was only 3 years her senior, and Wendi had been doubtful about taking orders from someone almost as young as she was- that is, until through a series of high intensity lessons and impressive demonstrations, Nyota had convinced each and every one of her students that she most definitely _did_ belong there. They had become friends through Wendi's lack of study habits; spending more and more time after class going over dialects, inflections, tenses, and eventually, casual conversation.

Despite the lack of age difference, Nyota had become a sort of replacement mother for a teenager who had just lost her own, and when Wendi graduated later that year (top of her class), Uhura's soft but steady presence was greatly missed when they shipped her overseas for continued training.

In other words, it was good to see her again.

"Yeah, I finally passed you!" she replied with a grin, to which Nyota shook her head, tsking.

"An inch is not so great a feat as you would like to believe."

"It totally is."

The woman before her tittered a laugh, sliding her hands down to Wendi's before giving them a tight squeeze.

"We have much to catch up on. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow during breakfast? You are on shift A, correct?"

Wendi bobbed her head in confirmation and Uhura squeezed her fingers one last time before heading in the direction of Spock's table, and leaving Wendi to her utensils and salad dressing packets.

She hurried back to her food, hoping that the dish hadn't cooled completely in her absence; cold spaghetti was almost worse than Spock's laser eyes.

"I'm back," she announced, mostly to herself, as she re-entered the practically empty room.

This was the scary part.

With the napkin, she wrapped the fork and dressing packet into a neat bundle before placing it on the outer rim of the plate, and moving toward the scanner at the left of the cell door. The deep breath she took to steady herself did little to pacify her nerves as the barrier between them fell away.

When Khan didn't jump up and roundhouse kick her in the head, she regained a little bit of courage, and stepped across the threshold, crossing in front of the point that his eyes had never seemed to leave and treading gingerly to his side. She placed the plate at the edge of his bench and slid it in his direction, never taking her eyes off of his motionless form as her heart fluttered anxiously.

Life in the Special Ops was a constant mirage of danger, but even at gunpoint, her heart hadn't been beating this frantically.

Different circumstances, she supposed.

But true to his image, Khan did not even twitch, and she soon had the glass sliding back into place as her pulse slowed to a healthier rate.

Her food tasted somewhat odd due to the rehydration process, but she ate it anyway; enjoying her salad and applesauce as much as one could when they were sitting a few feet away from a living gargoyle. She couldn't complain really- the quiet was somewhat pleasant after the stressful day of new faces and assignments, and it wasn't like Khan was staring at her awkwardly or anything. He wasn't even talking, which was also an up-grade, considering that fact that during the 2 almost-conversations they'd had since the beginning of this trip, he'd both admitted to losing (a very uncharacteristic thing for him to do, if she'd learned anything over the tap in the Enterprise) and confessed his daydreams of intensely harming at least one person aboard the rocket they were currently jetting through space in.

Not black and white, indeed.

By the time she finished eating, Wendi was aware of 2 things. 1. Khan hadn't even budged. 2. She was insanely tired.

The first one didn't bother her so much, but she hoped he would eat eventually. The second was more important; forefront in her mind, in fact, as she gathered her dishes and slowly stood.

"There's a silver trash shoot in the corner," she told him, wearily. "Whatever you don't want, just dump it in there and leave the plate in the corner. I'll be back here around 0100 hours for patrol, and breakfast will be at 0600 hours."

_Lovely, Wendi. _She opened the door.

Her room was quiet, the lights were low; dialed down to a softer setting for "night time", as those on A shift liked to call it. In space, there wasn't really a concept of time- a side effect of having no sun to gauge it with. On A shift, their PADDs kept track of earth time as if they were living in Central California, while B shift operated on a time zone stolen from what she guessed was the middle of Russia. B shift was composed mostly of seasoned veterans that had remained loyal to Starfleet, who were also used to the odd time change and adapted quickly. They would spend the next week teaching themselves to be nocturnal, so that the Enterprise would always have a crew on hand. Jim and Spock would likely operate on different times as well. She hoped Jim was on A.

Her hair fell loosely from its elastic prison as she pulled her hair tie and pins away, scrubbing through her scalp and toeing off her boots at the same time to leave a trail of clothes leading from the doorway to her bathroom.

Scrubbed and brushed, she hit the sheets with a solid weariness that she hadn't felt since her first month in the army.

**A/N **

**Reviews are so very welcome, and like I've said before, determine the fate of a story on this site. Thank you for reading!**

**I owe each of you lovely commentators a whole batch of jammy dodgers. Thank you so much!**


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